


HikaGo ficlets

by arboretum



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-03-24
Updated: 2010-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arboretum/pseuds/arboretum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>various small ficlets for Hikaru no Go</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hikaru's mom, the mail, a chilly autumn afternoon, a little birthday dinner for her son.
> 
> short ficlet for Aja, on the prompt "letters,"

It's a chilly evening, and she sticks her hands into her pockets when she goes out to get the mail. Fall has come early this year, she thinks. I'm getting on in years, she also thinks.

Hikaru is coming home tonight for dinner -- dinner and a little birthday celebration, that is. It's a day early, but he'd made all sorts of protests when she'd suggested they hold it tomorrow instead; he's busy, he has to play a game the day after, he'll be studying with Touya, one of his friends has promised to take him out to sushi. ("He's paying, too!" Hikaru had said, full of undisguised glee. "Goodness knows you make enough money to buy your own sushi these days," she'd replied, feeling her voice swell with affection for the boy who's grown up far faster than she'd ever expected.)

He seems happy, which is about all a mother can ask for, she supposes. She still doesn't quite understand, but his grandfather has never been anything if not fully supportive, and at least he has lots of friends his own age. She'll never stop worrying about him -- Hikaru is the type who'll need someone to worry for him until he's eighty-nine -- but it's good for her heart to know that he can take care of himself now. In a way.

Inside, she puts all the letters on the table, then goes to check on the stock she's brewing. She tastes it off the end of a ladle, then decides to let it sit a while longer.

The mail is mostly bills: electricity, television, internet. She sifts through them quickly, sorting them and throwing away the advertisements, then her fingers catch on a wrinkly envelope addressed to SHINDOU HIKARU in familiar handwriting.

"Oh?" she says. She turns it over -- there's nothing on the other side. It's a mother's prerogative to be curious, she's always held. Hikaru hasn't received mail here for over two years; and then there's the handwriting.

She slits it open. Inside is a folded sheet of paper. Along the top, in barely readable xerox, is written:

> WRITE A LETTER TO YOURSELF. TALK ABOUT YOUR AMBITIONS: WHERE DO YOU WANT TO GO? WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE? SENSEI WILL READ YOUR LETTERS BUT THERE WILL BE NO GRADE. IN FIVE YEARS, SENSEI WILL SEND THE LETTERS BACK TO YOU.

Underneath that, in black pen, someone (Hikaru, of course, she thinks) has drawn dozens of tsumego. She can't read them, but she can almost see him working out the problem over the paper, diagram after diagram, some of them scratched out impatiently. In the center, in red ink, is written: "~~Who is Sai? Never mind.~~" It's crossed out, and then signed: TAKEDA-SENSEI.

And just above that, several lines, hard to read where they overlap the tsumego:

> ~~Dear me,~~
> 
> ~~I hope you've finally caught up with that~~
> 
> ~~You'd better have made pro by now!!!!!!!~~
> 
> Dear Sai,
> 
> Did we make it?
> 
> Hikaru.

She reads it several times. It still doesn't make sense. Never mind, she thinks, sighing. Hikaru has never made sense. She'll show him the letter tonight; perhaps he'll explain. Then again, perhaps he won't.


	2. first times meme (Waya)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first times meme. for [toko](http://toko.livejournal.com)

Waya finds out Isumi is gay on a Wednesday. They're cleaning up after dinner and a match at Waya's apartment, and Waya is rooting through his perpetually unmade bed looking for the go stones he's sure he had just a moment ago. Meanwhile, Isumi-san gingerly places items recovered from the refrigerator out on the counter for Waya's inspection. Waya has a thought -- never, his mother says, a good thing -- and suddenly says, "Isumi-san is here so often, it's kind of like we're married. You should just move in with me or something."

Isumi pauses with his arm halfway through an arc. The banana peel he'd been about to throw away dangles at the end of his fingers for a long moment; then he cracks a smile, the banana peel hits the plastic lining in the trash bin with a satisfying slap, and Isumi says, "You shouldn't joke about that sort of thing, Waya. You know there are people who are actually like that."

Waya looks thoughtfully left then right, counts the go stones he's recovered from under his futon, then smiles and says, "So you're gay, then."

Well, that's that. Isumi has a minor panic attack, during which he very calmly and seriously asks Waya if he's really that obvious, and Waya answers, "No, I'm just really smart."

Isumi raises his eyebrows. "I guess you are," he laughs.

Waya briefly considers letting the issue drop completely, since Isumi-san is so obviously uncomfortable with it, but then as they examine a tupperware full of something that once was brown and now is a delicate, snowy white, he finds himself saying, instead of, "Actually, I would say there's a touch of _cyan_ in there," rather: "Well, actually, I was serious about you moving in with me."

There's no tell-tale pause this time, just silence as Isumi sweeps the entire container into the trash. Waya turns his head a little to see him. Isumi's back is to him; he turns on the sink, and the water makes it so Waya has to speak louder.

"If it's too small, we can get another place," he suggests. "Bigger? Or if you like Western-style, there are lots of places with carpeting or with hardwood."

"How do you know I even like you?" Isumi says. "Why do you want to move in together when we've never even kissed?"

"So kiss me now," Waya says.


	3. at the conbini

at the conbini, over a packet of gum, mitani catches a glimpse of a pair of glasses and a shock of impeccably groomed hair over the aisle divider. it takes him a minute to place the face; then, when he does, he abruptly looks away, certain he’s been forgotten and will look strange staring.  
  
it’s not till he’s in line at the check-out that he notices kishimoto looking back at him, frowning in the reflection of a glass door.  
  
“you,” kishimoto’s reflection mouths.  
  
mitani turns and raises an eyebrow. “oh, you remember,” he says. he can’t help the smirk.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Letters by Arboretum [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/779876) by [Rhea314 (Rhea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Rhea314)




End file.
